


Slings and Arrows

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Angst, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, The Great Rumbelle Blow Off, Vaginal Fingering, implied prostitution, spun lace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6463138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spinner!Rumple hears Milah might be back in town, but finds trouble at the tavern instead. Good thing resident tavern girl Lacey is there to patch him up. Among other things...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt challenge that created The Great Rumbelle Blow Off, where Belle found out her boss Mr. Gold had never had a blowjob before and set out to change that. Okay this is nowhere close to the original prompt and I don't even care. I love spinner!Rumple and Lacey.

The chilling wind followed Rumplestiltskin into the tavern, whipping and twisting his cloak about his legs and causing him to stumble through the door. It snapped shut behind him and the room hushed. All the eyes settled on him and he could feel their distaste for his presence. He started to limp towards the bar, and immediately everyone went back to ignoring him. He preferred that to the sneers and jibes to be honest. 

One face, however, caught his attention from across the room. He met her eyes hesitantly and she smiled, raising a hand in greeting. He nodded and finished making his way to the bar. Some of the soldiers passing by his tiny cottage had mentioned that the Jolly Roger was seen in port, and he’d walked all the way into town in the hope that maybe Milah had come home. She’d been gone a year and still their son asked for her, not truly believing that she was dead. He hated lying to his son, but it was better than telling him that his mother didn’t want them anymore.

“Excuse me?” he said tentatively to the barkeep.

The red haired man cocked his head and scowled at Rumplestiltskin. “Go back to your hovel, Spinner. Your coin is no good here, if you even _have_ any.”

A few patrons chuckled and he felt a nutshell hit him in the back. He started to turn when a warm hand settled on his arm.

“She’s not here,” Lacey said, keeping her voice low. The half smile she gave him was sad and sympathetic. “The Jolly Roger came down the coast yesterday, but it didn’t stop in Port.”

“Oh.” Rumplestiltskin swallowed and nodded, not looking at her. “Th-thank you. I’ll be - I’ll go now.”

Lacey sighed and opened her mouth to say more, when a man twice Rumplestiltskin’s size stopped directly behind him, swaying drunkenly. Rumplestiltskin turned and gasped, and the man smirked down at him.

“What’re you doing here, _coward_?” The man asked. His speech was heavily slurred and he rocked forward when he pointed a thick finger at Rumplestiltskin’s chest. “Come to find that whore of a wife? The one who left you for a whole boat full of pirates?”

Laughter bubbled up from the surrounding tables, and when Rumplestiltskin looked over his shoulder the barkeep was smiling too as he twisted a rag around inside a glass.

Rumplestiltskin looked back to the drunk man for a moment and then fixed his eyes on the floor. “I - I was just leaving.”

“Oh, I think you should stay!” The man grabbed Rumplestiltskin’s arm hard, and smiled when he winced. “We can tell you how many times we all had her before she left!”

The noise and laughter grew with some pounding on the table tops and making lewd whistles in amusement. Rumplestiltskin’s face flushed red and he shut his eyes. Though part of him knew it wasn’t all true, there was always that voice telling him that he didn’t really know what all Milah had gotten up to once she started visiting the tavern every night. Maybe he was the one who had it all wrong.

“P-please,” he managed. “Let me go.”

The man shoved him roughly, and Rumplestiltskin hit the bar with a grunt. His hands tightened around his staff to keep himself upright.

Lacey stepped forward, frowning at the drunk man. “Let the poor coward go, Kern,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve had your fun.”

Kern straightened and looked down at her. “You can’t tell me what to do, _whore_.”

Lacey fumed as more patrons laughed and jeered. She moved one foot forward again, but Rumplestiltskin’s gentle hand on her arm made her look at him. She exhaled and decided that accosting a big drunken idiot probably wasn’t her best idea. Instead she huffed and crossed her arms, squaring her shoulders. She didn’t care if any of them called her a whore, she knew what she was, and they still paid her for it. But seeing them pick on Rumplestiltskin every chance they got was making her sick.

“But I can tell _you_ what to do.” Kern moved towards Lacey, looming over her. “Can’t I, whore?”

Lacey took a step back. “Fuck you,” she spat.

His head tipped back and a booming laugh erupted. “If you insist.” He leered at her, looking her up and down as he forced her backwards again until she collided with the bar’s edge. “How much is it? Still a silverpiece?”

He started rattling the coins in his pocket and Lacey lashed out, striking his chest with her clenched fist.

“Two!” she yelled. “But I wouldn’t fuck you for ten gold!”

More laughter rolled around the tavern, but Kern’s eyes flashed with anger. “Why you -”

He raised a hand but as he brought it down, his wrist collided with something and was deflected. In his unsteady, drunken state, it caused him to stumble backwards.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed, his staff still raised in the air. He had no idea what had come over him, but it felt not unlike the night he made the decision he was coming home to his family one way or another. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, but as soon as he did he tried to flee.

He made to move around Kern, but the man grabbed his cloak. As Rumplestiltskin stepped forward, Kern stepped as well and what happened from there was a subject of debate in the village for at least a week. The next thing anyone knew, Kern was on the floor on his back, and Rumplestiltskin was lying on top of him, sideways. Kern let out a long, painful sounding groan, lifted his head and feebly raised his arm, only to let both drop to the floor with a thud.

Laughter roared through the tavern as Rumplestiltskin, half pushed himself up, and looked around. Everyone was grinning and looking at him and for once he didn’t feel as much disdain or derision in their gazes. Then his vision went blurry, and he blinked. Everything was tinged red and for a second he wondered if he was actually unconscious or dreaming.

An instant later, Lacey was there, looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

“S’wrong?” he asked. He blinked again and then there was a cloth being pressed to his head.

Lacey held up her hand, her fingertips red and wet with blood. “You’re bleeding all over the place,” she chided. Her mouth was set in a firm line and she huffed. “Come on. Get up before you make a mess.”

The original laughter had died down, but a few chuckled approvingly at her handling of him. She pulled his staff closer, keeping it tucked against her skirts so no one could see. Then she helped steady him as he used it to stand. Her face was still the picture of annoyed ambivalence, and it confused him. Usually she was the only one who was at least a little bit nice. But he supposed he had gotten blood on the table and the floor. She’d probably have to clean it up.

“Hold this here,” she said, motioning with a tip of her head towards the cloth she was holding to his. He fumbled for a second, but then got a hold of it. He gave her a sheepish smile, but she just sighed heavily and shook her head at him. His shoulders hunched as he reflexively curled in on himself.

She said something to the tavern owner he didn’t catch, and then took him by the arm. She lead him around the end of the bar and into the tavern’s kitchen. Behind them they could hear the sounds of Kern coming to and then being harassed by the other patrons for getting taken down by the village coward. He assumed Lacey was going to toss him out the back door into the alley, but then she pulled him to the side and started up a narrow flight of stairs. Frowning, he climbed after her, slowed by having to hold his staff and press the cloth to his head lest he keep bleeding on everything.

“I’m sorry about that,” she said when they reached the top. “But I don’t need more of their shit just because I don’t hate you.”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed and nodded. “I understand.”

Lacey sighed and motioned for him to follow her down the dim hallway. They entered a small room at the end, and Lacey set about warming some water in the small fireplace while Rumplestiltskin looked around. There were skirts laid over an old trunk, which sat at the end of a bed with a thin mattress. Next to the bed was a short vanity with a simple square mirror. On it was a hairbrush and some ribbons coiled up. He realize that he must be in Lacey’s room.

“Sit,” she ordered, turning the only chair in the room away from the beat up old vanity and pointing it towards the fire. Then she tossed another log on the flames and prodded at it with the poker.

When she turned around Rumplestiltskin was still standing by the door.

“Rumplestiltskin?”

Her voice startled him and he dropped the rag he’d been holding to his head. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll -”

“Come sit,” she said, softer this time, and held out a hand towards him.

He hobbled to the chair and sat down, letting his staff lean against the side. Lacey pulled a rickety old stool over that had been tucked in a corner and set it between his knees. It tipped back and forth a few times when she first sat on it. It seemed that one of the legs had broken at some point in its past and now was ever so slightly shorter than the others.

She set the bowl of warm water on her lap and then held the side of his face, the light pressure from her fingers turning his head. 

“Let’s see what the damage is,” she said, carefully peeling back the cloth that was now sticky with drying blood.

He winced as it pulled at his wounded skin. Her fingers were cool as she lifted his matted hair, and he sighed because it felt too good.

She shrugged. “Not too bad.” She looked up at him and smiled. “We just need to get it clean.”

“That’s not -” he started, then paused when she dipped a fresh cloth in the water and started dabbing at his forehead. “I - I can just go home and clean up. It’s no trouble.”

“Hush.” Her eyes met his for a second and then focused back on her task. “It’s no trouble to do it here.”

He said nothing and let her continue, wiping off the dried blood on his skin and hair, and then rinsing the cloth out in the bowl. He didn’t understand why she didn’t just send him on his way. It was obvious he was fine, he wasn’t going to bleed to death on the walk home and he hadn’t knocked his head so hard that he couldn’t walk straight. Well, as straight as he walked anyway.

“I don’t think it needs to be sewed,” she said, standing for a moment to look at the cut from above. Then she rinsed out the rag in the bowl and started cleaning around the wound. “From the way it looks, you must have hit the table edge on the way down.”

He sighed. “I still don’t even know what happened.”

Lacey laughed and lowered her hand to her lap. “You knocked that bastard right on his worthless ass is what happened. About time someone did that too.”

He let out a snort of agreement. “I’m not so sure he won’t want revenge though.”

She shrugged. “He won’t if he knows what’s good for him.” Rumplestiltskin glanced at her, unsure, and the corner of her mouth curved up. “You’ll be fine. There’s enough men around here that owe me.”

Rumplestiltskin wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he didn’t want to ask. They were silent while she worked, except for the occasional hiss of pain when she cleaned the cut directly, or when she pulled his hair a little trying to get the crusted blood out of it.

She came back from dumping out the bowl with more warm water and a clean rag. She wet the cloth and raised it, but he stopped her by taking hold of her wrist. Water dripped from the rag into the sleeve of his shirt and down onto the floor.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, unable to really look her in the eye. He knew he’d find rejection and dislike there eventually, even if she was being kind now.

Lacey sighed and lowered her hand. “Because I’m not sending you home to your son looking like you lost the fight.”

He looked up then and met her eyes. They were very blue and very bright. “But I, uh, I usually do lose the fight.”

“Except this time you didn’t.” Her eyebrows lifted and her lips quirked.

He laughed softly and Lacey bit her lip. She had never really heard him laugh before, not in a way that wasn’t self deprecating. His face lit up for just those few seconds, and the little lines around his eyes were more prominent. He was - handsome, in a way.

“I guess I didn’t,” he said after a moment. And that was a very new feeling. Even if he didn’t intend to start or end the fight, he’d come out on top and that felt pretty good. Maybe -

Lacey’s fingers at his neck shook him from his thoughts. She was running the warm cloth down the side of his neck to his collarbone, and he pressed his lips together to keep from making a sound. Her touch felt so nice, so - caring. No one touched him except with malice or scorn, no one except Bae. Lacey’s hand trailed the rag into the dip at the hollow of his throat and to the V made by the opening of his shirt. It was slow and gentle, almost like a caress.

He shivered and sighed. When she started pulling on the laces of his shirt, he looked up, but her eyes were focused on her task. He reminded himself that she was just being nice. Plenty of men paid her for that and more. It was foolish of him to think anything else. 

She finally got the laces undone and once she spread it open he saw the reason why. Blood had trickled down his face, his neck, and into the collar of his shirt, drying on left side of his chest. He shivered again, feeling exposed and bit chilled despite the fire and the soothing, warm water being applied to his skin. 

Lacey shifted forward, but she couldn’t get close enough to get all of the mess. Head wounds always bled the worst and looked the worst. She’d seen enough of them on her father and more recently on the drunken idiots who frequented the tavern. She leaned in, bringing her face very close to Rumplestiltskin’s, but kept her head down.

He was thin, too thin, but then most of them were in this village through a combination of famine caused by the war, and a lousy growing season on top of it. She knew there was even less for Rumplestiltskin and his son than most. She remembered the feeling of an empty belly too well. That was why she worked here and why she let those drunken idiots give her coin for the use of her body. It was hers to sell if she chose to, to whom she chose to, and if it kept her safe and fed then it was worth it. When she ran away she vowed she’d never go hungry again and so far she hadn’t.

But she knew Rumplestiltskin did. He probably gave most of the food to his son. He was a good father, unlike hers, and that made him worth a hundred of those louts downstairs.

She glanced up and saw him watching her, his eyes warm and dark, and she swallowed hard.

“You saved me,” she said softly. He frowned and tilted his head. “No one’s ever - before.”

“I couldn’t let - let him hurt you,” he shrugged and looked at the fire. “What he said, it - I mean I don’t -”

Lacey pressed her lips together and shook her head, touching the edge of his jaw to make him look at her again. “What he said doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. I -”

She stopped him with a finger to his lips. “No,” she said firmly. “It doesn’t. I know who I am.”

Her finger was still touching his lips so he pursed them like a kiss, and she pulled her hand back, laughing.

“Sorry,” she muttered, returning her attention to the bowl of water and bending to get a fresh rag.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged again. “Don’t be.”

She looked at him again and then huffed. “Alright, let’s get the rest of you.”

She stood and then pushed the stool back with her foot. Then she set the bowl on top of the stool, and bent to hitch up her skirts. Rumplestiltskin frowned and sat back on the chair. His expression very quickly turned to shock when Lacey lifted one leg and settled herself across the thigh of his good leg.

“Wh-what are you -?”

She shushed him with a look. “I can’t reach from that stool,” she explained. “Now hold still.”

He tried to hold perfectly still while she held open his shirt and cleaned his side. He had to raise his arm up and hold it, but he couldn’t help the twitching when she ran the cloth over his ribs. Eventually he let out a short laugh, and glanced to the side to see Lacey smiling too.

Her hands moved over him, gentle and firm at the same time. The water was warm, the fire was hot, and everything about her seemed soft and light. Their faces were side by side, and for just a moment her cheek brushed against his. He turned his face towards her slightly, nuzzling her jaw. Despite the fact that she spent her days and nights in a tavern, she smelled good, not like smoke or spilt ale or the sweat of the men who pawed at her. She smelled light, like soap and summer.

Her legs flexed around his and he let out a groan before he could stop himself. There was a stirring between his legs that he hadn’t felt in years and it left him flushed and breathing fast. He could feel his face heat and hoped she didn’t notice the effect she was having on him.

Lacey bit her lip and let her weight settle on top of his leg, her thighs tensing to hold herself upright. Beneath her, his lean muscles strained and stretched, shifting against her in a way that was undeniably arousing. She almost matched his sound with one of her own. Her body felt too tight, too warm, and between her legs she was starting to throb. The rag slipped from her hand as she leaned forward to brace a hand on his shoulder.

She looked down and then up to meet Rumplestiltskin’s eyes. Everything was fading around her except this kind, gentle man who stood up for her when no one else had ever bothered. It wasn’t like her, but in a way it also was. She was choosing, this and him; hers to give.

“S-sorry,” he managed. Then he looked away, swallowing hard, and set a hand at her waist, intending to help her up. 

But she didn’t move. Instead she slid closer.

“Rumple,” she said softly. His head dropped and he tried to look away, but she caught his jaw with her fingertips and gently turned his face to hers.

He licked his lips. “Lacey.”

She moved and kissed him, just a sweet press of her lips to his a bit off center. When she pulled back he let out a soft _oh_. She shifted again, intending to kiss him once more, but he stopped her.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Milah -”

Lacey bristled at the sound of that name. “You can,” she replied.

“She’s -,” he stopped and shut his eyes. 

Rumplestiltskin sighed. Milah had been gone a year. The hope that she might come home was all but gone, and in his heart he knew it had never been there at all.

“I’m sorry,” he said, even as he pushed his face towards her, desperate for the touch he’d missed for so long.

Lacey shook her head. Her hair brushed against his bare chest through the opening in his shirt. “No,” she breathed. “Don’t be.” 

Rumplestiltskin sat back so he could see her face.

“I failed her,” he tried to explain. “She - I-I’m a coward, Lacey. I always have been.” He blinked and tears pricked the corners of his eyes and he let his head drop. 

“Hey.” Delicate fingertips under his chin urged him to look up again.

He sighed. “At least when Milah was around, even if - if she didn’t care for me, I wasn’t - “ He took a breath and hated what he was about to say. “At least I wasn’t a-alone.”

Lacey’s head titled to the side. She felt her throat get tight and her jaw tremble. Taking his face in her hands, she pulled him close and touch her lips to his, once then twice. “You aren’t alone now.”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed and then kissed her again, briefly catching her bottom lip in his. A gasp passed between them as he pulled away, but Lacey slid a hand behind his neck, into his hair and guided him back to her. She opened her mouth and licked at his lips, plucked at them until he opened for her. It was so much more gentle than she was used to. He didn’t try to dominate the kiss, to claim her in some way, but once his tongue touched hers something shifted. There was passion and tension behind the careful way he held her, one hand still at her waist, the other cupping her cheek.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, panting into the space between. She tasted a little like wine, wine and something sweet. He thought he could probably kiss her for a day and not get enough. He hadn’t kissed a woman in years. Milah had never been all that affectionate even at the start of their marriage, and in the last couple of years before she left she rarely even looked at him without scorn much less touched him. 

But Lacey was touching him. Her fingers trailed over his skin, down as far as the unlaced shirt would let her go. Then she’d move back up again and over his shoulders. Her palms pressed and kneaded the tight flesh, sore from so many hours of work, in the field and at his spinning wheel. He groaned as her fingers found a knot in the muscles of his neck and pressed just enough in little circles to relax it.

This was dangerous. This would hurt if he let it go too far.

“Do you want to touch me?” Lacey whispered.

Rumplestiltskin sat back and looked at her. “Y-yes,” he said quickly.

She smiled at him and her hands left him, moving to the front of her dress to start undoing her bodice. Once it was loose enough, she pulled the laces free and then let it fall to the floor leaving her in only her thin shirt. A breath rushed out of Rumplestiltskin as his eyes flicked between her face and her chest. She licked her lips and felt her nipples tighten. The urge to shift her hips against him again, to feel the hard press of his thigh under her, was overwhelming. She shivered.

“Cold?” he asked, feeling immediately foolish.

Lacey shook her head and let out a very soft laugh. “No.”

His hands moved tentatively, one splayed across her thigh, the other went to her shoulder and followed much the same path as hers had across his body. Fingers walked along her collarbone, brushed the dip at base of her throat, then down to the tops of her breasts. They weren’t much but at least with the bodice on she’d looked like she had something there. Rumplestiltskin didn’t really seem to mind if the light little noise he made as she breathed and pushed her flesh against his hand meant anything.

She reached up and slid the sleeves of her shirt down over her shoulders, and then pulled her arms up and out, letting the fabric fall over her breasts. The moan he let out at the sight of her bare chest was the most gratifying sound she’d heard in ages. It sounded like true longing and appreciation, not lust and the twisted desire of the men who’d pay to lay between her legs. And it certainly wasn’t the scorn she got sometimes for being smaller than her customers might like.

His eyes met hers and held for a long moment, until she took the hand that had been exploring her skin and guided it to her left breast. She watched his throat bob before he gave her a hesitant squeeze. It was as gentle as everything had been so far, and she pushed herself towards him, urging him to do more and to let him know it was alright.

He touched her slowly, but with more certainty, rubbing his hand over her and feeling her nipple poke the center of his palm. She bit her lip and tightened her hand in his shirt as her eyes fluttered closed. He couldn’t believe she was allowing him this, and that she might be enjoying it as much as he was. Growing bolder, he lightly pinched and plucked both buds at once, causing her to squeeze his thigh with her legs. He brushed his thumbs over them, back and forth, surprised at how she arched into his touch as if she only wanted more of it. With her pressing forward, he pinched her nipples again, harder, and tugged until she stopped biting her lip and cried out.

“Oh,” Lacey gasped. “ _Gods_ , that’s -” 

Whatever she was going to say faded off into a moan. She shifted again, rubbing herself against his leg, the friction barely half of what she needed, but she desperately needed _something_. She felt uncomfortable and heated as pleasure trembled through her body. He made a noise and she looked down to see her knee had brushed against him. His arousal strained the laces of his trousers, and she licked her lips.

“Rumple,” she said, and he blinked before he focused on her face. His eyes were dark and wide, shining in the firelight, and his mouth hung open as he breathed deeply.

Without a word his hands went behind her, holding her as his head bent to take her nipple in his mouth. The first touch of his tongue and the firm suction between his lips had her writhing. She grabbed at his shoulders and arms, needing to feel something grounding her. The burning arousal that shuddered through her and left her wet between her legs felt so new. 

Sure she managed to work herself up for the men who came through the door with silver in their pockets, but that was her own hand, her own mind, getting her to where she needed to be. She had to be believable, even though most of them were probably too drunk to notice, and the wetter she was the less it would hurt sometimes. But this - this was something she hadn’t had maybe ever. It was sad to realize that for all the pleasure she gave to others, she had never had any for herself.

She squeezed her eyes shut as his mouth let her go with a wet pop before his tongue and lips kissed their way to her other breast. Her hips started moving again, anxious and needy for relief from the building tension in her belly. She wanted release but also never wanted the sensations of his wonderful mouth and hands to stop. 

She let out a desperate, whimpering noise and he stopped, lifting his head to look at her. He reached up with on hand and brushed back her hair where it had started sticking to the sweat on her face.

She panted for a moment and then asked, “I thought you wanted to touch me?”

Rumplestiltskin looked at her in confusion. “I am.”

Lacey bit her lip and then reluctantly stood up, moving off of his leg. “Not there.”

He swallowed and watched her untie in the laces holding her skirt up, letting it fall in a puddle at her feet once they were free. Then she pushed her shirt the rest of the way down her legs as well and straightened. She stood between his open legs bare to the waist and in nothing but her underwear. Her fingers plucked at the bow on the front, a plain white ribbon threaded through plain white drawers, but he didn’t care. In moments she was fully bare to him, standing there looking down at him almost nervous.

How could she possibly be nervous, he wondered. She was beautiful. He must had said it out loud because she laughed and looked down at the floor. Her cheeks were flushed and when she looked up he felt a tingle ripple through him. His cock twitched and throbbed in his trousers, and he groaned.

She stepped closer and moved like she was going to straddle him, but he took her by the shoulders and stopped her. Against the desire of every nerve in his body, and the tight clenching in his chest, he shook his head.

“I can’t,” he managed through the lump and tightness in his throat. “I’m -”

He meant to say married, but he wasn’t sure that wasn’t a lie anymore. But he was - something, maybe.

“She left you,” Lacey said, frowning. “She _left_ you and -” Her words caught as tears pricked at her eyes. 

“I know,” he replied. “But -” He shrugged, but he was still holding onto her. He let his hands loosen and slide down her body, skimming her sides with his fingertips until they touched the ruffle at her waist.

She shivered both at his touch and the chill of standing away from his warm body. “But nothing,” she said. “She left you and she’s not coming back. I know it hurts, but -” she stopped again as her words hit too close home. 

She shook it off and then look at him, loathing well up in her gut at the thought of Milah, at everything she’d heard the woman say when she was three drinks into the night and had herself slung across some man’s lap.

“She’s probably on her knees right now,” she said, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice, “sucking that pirate’s crooked cock, and who knows who else’s.”

Rumplestiltskin winced and shut his eyes. He knew it was the truth, but it hurt. It hurt and made him angry and yet somehow relieved all at the same time. Lacey knew, just as much as anyone in the village knew. But unlike the rest of them, Lacey didn’t seem to be defending Milah. And she’d taken care of him tonight, let him kiss her and touch her and -

He let out a quiet _oof_ as Lacey seated herself across his lap and pushed him back against the chair. He looked up at her, met her eyes and then let his gaze trail down her body, lingering over her breasts and the red marks that stuck out on her fair skin. He realized that he’d left those there, caused by the stubble on his cheeks and the nips of his teeth.

She took hold of his wrist and brought his hand between her legs, his palm pressed against her. A slick wetness coated his hand, and he gasped.

“You,” she whispered, leaning over him to brush her lips over his. “You did this to me Rumplestiltskin.”

He licked his lips and just caught the edge of hers with his tongue. She was so close and so warm and so so wet. Milah had never been like this. And, gods, had _he_? Had he ever felt stretched tight like a bowstring, ready to snap with just the slightest pressure? 

Lacey started moving her hips against his hand, too far gone to care how she got off. “I need you, Rum.”

He whimpered. “Me?”

She nodded. “Yes.” He finally got the hint and pulled his hand back just enough to put his fingers over her clit and press. “Gods, yes!”

She held on to his shoulder with one hand, the other was still around his wrist, guiding and encouraging him to keep touching her. He was clumsy at first, fumbling more than touching intentionally, but after a minute he seemed to find his way. He figured out she was too sensitive for him to touch her little nub directly, but just to the side and above and the little circles he used was perfect.

Normally she was very vocal, more than she felt or wanted to be, but of course that was for the benefit of whoever had paid her. They would always want others to hear her and know how marvelous she thought they were, even though they were barely passable and frequently terrible. Now she was fighting against it, wanting to keep it just in this room, just between them. But when he sped up the movement of his fingers and his mouth found her nipple again, she wanted to scream. She was so close to something she hadn’t felt in so long.

Lacey let out an almost pained sound, and Rumplestiltskin slowed his hand, worried he was hurting her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s good,” she managed, wriggling her hips and rubbing herself against his hand until he got the hint and started moving again at the pace she seemed to like.

Slowly, he shifted his hand and pushed a finger inside her, groaning at the burning, wet heat of her. Gods, Milah had certainly never felt like this, and she had never made those noises either.

“More,” Lacey gasped. “ _Rum_.”

He moaned again at the sound of his shortened name and the thought that she was so close and overcome with pleasure that was all she could say. He slid another finger into her, pressed them as deep as he could on every stroke, feeling the gush of wetness over his hand. The heel of his palm was smashed against her clit and her hips were moving in a desperate rhythm with his fingers. He licked at her nipples and then nibbled on her neck, trailing his mouth up to her ear and then back down again. He wanted to taste and touch all of her at once.

Lacey’s mind was spinning and her body felt coiled tight and ready to burst. His hands were amazing, so much softer than she’d imagined given all the work she knew he must have to do. But there were spots that had just the right roughness and they were driving her mad. His fingers were long and seemed to find just the perfect way to touch her, the right speed to fuck her. She wondered why the hell Milah had ever looked at another man when the one she had at home was gentle and kind and driving her mad with just one hand.

She cried out in frustration, close but still not quite there. She didn’t understand why when she felt so ready to explode. He pulled her down for a sweet kiss, not stopping the motion of his hand on her cunt.

He hushed her and kissed her cheek, her temple. “What do you need, sweetheart?” He said in her ear.

She cried out and buried her face against his neck, breathing in his scent. “I - I don’t -” She swallowed and couldn’t get the words out.

He nipped at her earlobe. “Relax,” he said, and pulled her against him, trapping his hand between them. “Let me take care of you.”

Now she could feel him, the texture of his trousers, and his hard, straining cock. His fingers were still working inside her, but slower, deeper, and more deliberate. Her breasts pushed against his bare chest, the laces of his shirt tickling her sides. He was whispering nonsense in her ear about how beautiful she was, how good she felt, and it didn’t seem like anything she thought she’d wanted. She needed it harder and faster, but then everything suddenly felt - light.

Her mouth opened on his neck, slightly screaming as her body contracted. She squeezed herself against him, needing to feel as much of him as she could. His movements were still so gentle, stroking her through her orgasm and the aftermath, only stopping when she reached down and touched his wrist.

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and sighed. “Rumple.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled and kissed the side of her head, holding her until her breathing slowed. Even with his cock painfully hard and throbbing, he felt a sense of satisfaction. Lacey was almost boneless in his lap, nuzzling his neck while her pleasure subsided. He marveled that he had done that to her, that she’d let him and begged him. That she had needed _him_.

Her hand pressed firmly against his erection forcing a grunt from him, and she sat back and smirked. She plucked at the laces until they were loose. He sighed at the slight release of pressure. “Lacey,” he groaned, taking hold of her hand to stop her.

“Let me take care of you,” she said, echoing his earlier words. Then she touched her lips to his.

He swallowed and nodded as she slipped from his lap and went to her knees in front of him. His eyes went wide at the sight of her looking up at him, her hands untying the rest of the lacing on his trousers.

“W-what are you -”

Whatever he’d been about to say trailed off into a pained whimper as she opened his trousers and wrapped her hand around his cock. Leaning forward, she kept her eyes locked with his as she breathed a soft, hot puff of air over him.

“I’m going to take care of you,” she whispered.

She licked her lips, letting her tongue skim along the edge of her teeth, so close to where he desperately needs it to be. Then she moved down again and brushed her wet lips against him, dragging them along his length, letting him feel the heat of her mouth. Her bottom lip flicked over the deep red head of his cock and he made an almost inhuman noise.

He gasped and licked his lips, struggling for words. “I th-thought -” He took a few hard, deep breaths. “I thought it was just a - a saying?”

She frowned for a second, wondering what he meant, and then dipped her head as the realization hit her.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. She smiled, never taking her eyes off him, and trailed her soft fingertips up and down his shaft, continuing her relentlessly teasing until her name fell from his lips like a plea for mercy. His head lolled back against the chair. His bad leg stretched out as much as he could with her in front of him, but he didn’t really notice the pain at all.

“You’ve never?” she asked, already knowing what the answer was. 

Of course Milah had never done this for him. Poor bastard was probably lucky she ever let him between her legs at all. It was also probably a miracle they ever had a child. Unless - she shook off the thought, refusing to let her mind distract her from her task with such sullen ideas.

His head rolled side to side. “No.”

She squeezed his thigh until he looked down at her. “Let me take care of you?”

He nodded, eyes heavy lidded and dark. The floor was hard but her discarded clothes provided fair padding. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to, but this was probably the first time she had really wanted to do this, wanted to give someone else pleasure just for the sake of it and not to add coins to her pocket. She leaned forward again and brushed her lips up and down his cock before touching a soft kiss to the head.

He swallowed hard. “ _Fuck_ , Lacey.” 

His hands griped the seat hard on either side of his thighs until his knuckles were white. Then in one sudden and swift motion, she bent and licked the underside of his cock, root to top. Her tongue pressed firmly against the hot, velvety skin. She did it again and felt the vein pulse against her tongue.

He cried out and one hand left the chair, flailing in the air for a second before reaching for her hair. He stopped himself at the last second and then went back to clutching the seat. His were wide as she raised up and licked lightly at the liquid seeping from the thick head, tasting and savoring the flavor of him. He actually tasted pretty good, and he smelled like something she couldn’t place, something earthy but clean. Her right hand wrapped around the base of his shaft while her lips begin a slow, steady slide downward to take as much of him as she could.

She set a slow rhythm, hollowing her cheeks on the way up, and following the path of her mouth with her hand, working them in tandem. He had to force his eyes to stay open and watch her head bob up and down as her warm breath ghosted over his skin when she breathed through her nose. Her hair started to fall around her face and she brushed it back with her free hand. His hand hovered again, fingers itching to slide into her soft curls, until she finally looked up at him. He moaned at the sight of her pink lips stretched around him, her eyes dark but still so blue. 

Lacey sucked hard and then pulled off of him, secretly pleased at the noise he made at the loss of her mouth. Saliva trailed from her lips as she licked at it messily, not caring how debauched she looked.

“It’s alright,” she said quickly, and then took him in her mouth again.

Rumplestiltskin moaned in relief and moved his hands to her head, fingers threading in her hair, holding it up away from her face. She hummed around him and started squeezing her hand just a little bit tighter. Her other hand reached up to cup his balls, rolling them against her smooth, warm palm. A hiss passed his lips and his head lolled back against the chair again. 

She moved faster, pushing her lips tight together and sucking him hard as she pulled up, swirling her tongue around the head. His hands tightened in her hair, pulling against her scalp. Normally she hated when men did that to her, but this stung just right. For a moment she wished he was behind her, pulling her head up by her hair, slamming into her with the delicious cock between her lips. The thought had her feeling achy and wet again, and she moaned.

He watched as his cock slipped in and out between her lips, her hand still stroking firmly in time.  
He felt the sound she made rather than heard it, felt it ripple through him to his toes. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing his cock deeper in her mouth. 

She gagged for a second and pulled back, lavishing attention on the tip where there was more for her to taste and lick while she caught her breath.

“S-sorry,” he said, forcing himself to still. His hand fell from her hair and griped the seat again.

She licked him once, hard and firm as she used both hands on him, stroking and smearing her saliva over his whole length. She smirked when his hips bucked again uncontrollably. 

“Want you to,” she said, pausing to run her lips over him. 

It was all Rumplestiltskin needed to hear as her mouth slid down his cock again. Her tongue pressed solidly against him but her lips were looser, her jaw more lax. He thrusted once, shallowly, and received an encouraging moan. He did it again, and she let him slip just a bit deeper. Again and again his hips lifted as much as the pain in his leg would allow. He pushed in and out of her mouth as she moved up and down in short bobs. Eventually, he had to stop and then she bent and took all of him, her lips pressing around the root of his cock, her nose in the tangle of hair above it.

And then he felt it, coiling in his belly and making his whole body tense. He forced his eyes open, saw her looking up at him as she drug her sinful mouth back up his length. When she reached the head it took only a flick of her tongue before he was shouting his orgasm, twitching and pulsing inside her mouth. When she swallowed, he felt her throat flex, the motion sucking the sensitive head just enough that he swore he saw stars. He groaned in relief and slumped against the chair.

Lacey waited until she’d taken everything he had to give,and then let his softening cock fall free with a pop. She swiped a hand over her mouth and let her head rest on his thigh while his breathing slowed, smiling to see him so relaxed and spent. She wondered how long it had been since he’d been so consumed with pleasure.

Part of her wanted to lead him over to her bed, to curl up with him in the light of the fire, and listen to the wind howl outside. They could be warm and safe in here, ignore everything until morning, but what then? Where would that leave her? She’d still be the tavern whore and he’d still be the village outcast, a poor spinner with barely more than nothing to his name. They were such a pair.

She sighed and noticed he was looking down at her. “What?”

He smiled crookedly and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said softly. “Just -”

 _You_ , he thought. _You_. She was perfect and beautiful and it didn’t matter what she’d done with anyone else or what they thought of her. He’d treat her like a princess if he could. But he couldn’t even afford a mug of ale downstairs.

He sighed. “Nothing.”

Lacey licked her lips and swallowed before pushing to her feet. He was looking up at her in a way that made her insides flip and that just wouldn’t do.

“You don’t owe me, you know.” She bent and picked up her skirts, holding them in front of her legs.

“Oh,” he replied. It hadn’t occurred to him that this was anything but something she wanted to do, but he supposed it was only natural to assume. “I didn’t think - I mean it wasn’t -”

She huffed and gathered the rest of her clothes, dumping them on the bed. “Don’t worry about it, alright?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Just - just get home to your boy.”

“Yes, right,” he said quietly. 

He did up his trousers and laced his shirt as she righted all of her clothing and slipped her skirts back on. He looked around for his staff and then stopped when he saw she was holding it out for him. She had replaced her skirt and shirt, but her bodice was still laying on the bed and her feet were bare. She looked smaller somehow, softer. He had the urge to wrap her in his arms, which was silly. It wasn’t as if he could protect her from anything.

“You’ll have to go out the back door,” she said, jerking her hand away as he took the staff from her. Then she shrugged. “Nothing personal.”

He nodded and swallowed, wishing he could ask her for a drink before he left. The walk home would be cold and the muscles in his leg were starting to tighten. The front of his trousers was damp too, covered in what had rushed out of her as she orgasmed. He tried to push that thought from his mind.

“Of - of course,” he said, looking at the floor.

He hobbled towards the door and then turned to look at her. She was looking back and gave him a tight smile. He nodded again and ambled out into the hallway, and she hurried to shut the door behind him. She leaned her forehead against the wood, her eyes shut. Her throat felt tight and tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

She wiped them away before they could fall and crossed the small space back to her bed. Sitting on the side, she pulled the bodice around her and started lacing it up again, pulling the strings until her breast were pushed up just right. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling the press of the bodice against her ribs. It was always comfortable and familiar.

Nothing about this evening had gone the way she thought, but she needed to get back downstairs if she was going to keep her job and have money to spend the next market day. The wind howling outside drew her attention and she shifted across the bed to look out. She touched her fingers to the cold, frosted over glass, leaving a small patch clear from the heat of them. Through it she saw Rumplestiltskin walking across the road, the wind battering his cloak around his legs. He stumbled briefly, but caught himself. 

She gasped quietly and then chided herself. Pushing away from the window, she slid off the bed and brushed her hands over her skirt before she left her room. Downstairs she could hear laughter and the sound of something breaking. She sighed, knowing it would be many hours before she was back in her room. Maybe by then, she thought, the scent of him would be gone.

Rumplestiltskin stumbled into the side of the tailor’s shop with a grunt. His leg was killing him, but he had to get back home. Bae had been at his friend’s house the better part of the day, and while Morraine’s mother had told him more than once that Baelfire was welcome anytime, for as long as he needed to stay, Rumplestiltskin didn’t like not being apart from him for long. He looked back and up at the tavern, to the small window on the side of the upstairs of the building. Lacey’s room he thought, but that was probably silly.

He was being silly.

Then he thought he saw her at the window, briefly. He smiled at the thought that she might be looking at him too, and he felt less alone again, even if only for a moment. But just as soon as she was there, she was gone. The wind was biting at his bare skin, and he needed to get home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacey gets caught in a snow storm and seeks shelter with Rumple. Smut ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long while ago an anon gave me this prompt and I've taken my sweet time getting it done. I'm so sorry.

The wind whipped and curled through the door as Lacey stepped inside. Rumplestiltskin staggered through behind her, knocking into her and pushing her forward. Her damp hair was stuck to her face, making it hard to see, but she managed to stumble out of the way and catch herself on the table with a grunt.

“Sorry,” Rumplestiltskin muttered as he turned to close the door. 

It took two tries, shoving against the wind and the snow that blew into the gap, to get it shut and latched. The howling whistle stopped abruptly once it closed, and Rumplestiltskin shivered as he leaned against the door to catch his breath.

“Thanks,” Lacey said, finally, straightening and turning to flash him a small smile that she wasn’t sure he could see in the dim light of only two candles and a low fire.

This was the first time she’d spoken to him since the night he’d come looking for Milah at the tavern. They’d seen each other a couple of times in town, but it was always at a distance, though she hadn’t really gone out of her way to avoid him. It was just - strange. She had things she wanted to say but no courage to say them, and if his lingering glances were any indication he did as well. It was easier and safer to just smile, give a wave, and be on her way. Enough that he would know she was still friendly towards him, but not so much that others might notice. No one had asked her what happened that night that he came to the inn, for all they knew she’d shoved him out the back door and made a few coins before coming back down.

“It’s no matter,” he replied. 

He moved to the hearth and prodded the coals to break them apart. They sparked back to life and then he added two logs from a nearby basket, kneeling to blew gently until flames licked up around the edges and caught.

 

As he went to light a few more candles, Lacey took the opportunity to look around the space. She’d been on the road that went past his cottage numerous times, and it always looked small from a distance. Being inside it now she was surprised at just how small it really was. There was only one big room with a loft that covered half of it, and a set of narrow stairs leading up. There was a table in the middle of the room, and a stove and another smaller work table to one end. A sizable spinning wheel was pushed up against one of the walls to keep it out of the way. There was enough floor space between the table and the hearth that she could easily imagine him in the evenings, spinning away by the fire.

At the opposite end, tucked into a corner, was a bed made of only a low frame and a mattress she assumed was stuffed with straw. Even at the inn, even as a whore, she laid on a feather bed more often than not. Her own tiny room had an older one that needed restuffing, but it was far more luxurious in comparison.

Rumplestiltskin touched her shoulder and she startled. “Sorry,” he said. “But you should sit by the fire and get warm.”

Lacey nodded, and crossed the short distance to the hearth. She removed her cloak and draped it over the back of the rocking chair before taking a seat. She looked back to see him standing there watching her, his hands fidgeting nervously.

“I’ll make tea,” he added after a moment, and then hobbled towards the small stove.

Lacey shivered and leaned forward on the rickety chair, trying to get closer to the fire. It felt like the cold had seeped through her clothes and into her bones, and she felt even more grateful that Rumplestiltskin had found her before she froze on the side of the road. It had been foolish to make the trip to Longbourne when snow had been threatening for days, but she preferred their market to the smaller one in the village.

Longbourne was a much larger town along the King’s Road, and it drew merchants from all over the kingdom and beyond. It was a morning’s walk to get there, but no one there looked down on her for being a whore. To them she wasn’t a tavern wench who was only good for something if she was on her back. There she was just Miss Belle who liked satin ribbons for her hair, lemon tea, and soaps that smelled of roses.

A few minutes later Rumplestiltskin was beside her again, holding a white tea cup.

“I, uh,” he started, handing her the cup, “There’s a little sugar. But, um, no honey.”

His face was plaintive, his lips pressed tight together like he was waiting for her to be angry with him. She shook her head. “Just the tea is fine, thank you.”

He nodded briefly, and limped back to the small kitchen, then returned with a pewter mug that looked like it had seen better days, and sat in the other chair.

Lacey wrapped her hands around the cup to warm them and sipped cautiously at the tea. It was faintly sweet and tangy, just as she liked. She smiled, but her lips trembled as her body shook with chills that swept from head to toe. Her fingers were still pale, almost bluish at the tips. They felt burned by the heat of the teacup, and her toes had gone numb before she’d come around the bend out of the woods.

Rumplestiltskin frowned and set his mug aside. “You need to get out of those clothes.”

As soon as he said the words, his eyes went wide and his mouth gaped open. “I mean, um, they’re - wet and - and -”

She sighed and nodded. “No, you’re right. I’m not going to warm up properly in these.”

She passed him the tea and then stood, turning her back to him. “Would you mind?”

Rumplestiltskin blinked, confused for a moment as to what she meant, but then he realized that her dress was a more proper one than he was used to seeing her wear. It was a light blue with touches of white piping and lace, and a long ribbon at the small of her back that had probably been tied in a bow before her trek through the snow had undone it. The strings of the corset were done up the back and pulled rather tight. It took him several minutes to get them loose, and he had to sit down to get the last of them before he started pulling the lacing through.

She must have had one of the other girls help her get it on, like a proper lady. The thought made him frown. Lacey _was_ a proper lady, despite what some might say, just not the type who regularly had to have help with her pretty dresses.

“What did you say?” she asked, and he froze.

He must have said some part of that out loud. He looked up to see her peering at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. “I said this is a very pretty dress.”

She smiled and looked away, muttering a soft thanks.

A few tugs later, the laces were loose enough that the dress sagged around her, and with some wiggling she was able to get it over her hips. It puddled around her and heaped up over her ankles, trapping her boots as she tried to free herself from the dress. Rumplestiltskin stood to help, holding her arm and steadying her until she could kick the garment aside, leaving her in just her shift, stockings, and boots.

“You’re wet all the way through,” Rumplestiltskin said, shaking his head and trying to avoid noticing how the damp cloth clung to her skin.

“Yeah, well,” Lacey muttered and then sat to undo the laces of her boots. “Fucking snow.”

His hands clenched in front of him as he watched her fingers pluck at the strings. The snow had soaked her completely. She’d need to take all of it off to warm up and avoid any frost bite or sickness from exposure. She would be - naked.

“I’ll, um, get you ah -” He trailed off and hurried to the chest at the end of the bed.

Lacey sigh as she wiggled her toes. They prickled with pins and needles, but at least that meant they were in working order. She stood up again and was just pulling her shift over her head when Rumplestiltskin turned around and gasped.

“Sorry!” he said, turning back to face the bed. “Let me know when y-you’re, um -”

He half turned and held out a blanket for her to take.

She stepped closer and took it from his shaking hand, then wrapped it around her shoulders. “I’m decent,” she said, giving him a soft smile as he cautiously turned around.

Lacey sat with the blanket wrapped around her while Rumplestiltskin shook out her clothing and clipped it to a small clothesline strung from just over the window to the end of the mantle. With any luck her clothes would be dry in a couple of hours, and if the snow let up a bit she could be back in her room with a few hours to sleep before morning chores. Somehow that idea didn’t seem as appealing as it had when she was stumbling along the side of the road.

“There’s broth,” he offered, pointing with a thumb over his shoulder. “If - if you like.”

She nodded, smiling, and a few minutes later she was wrapping her hands around a bowl. The heat seeped through the clay, warming her fingertips until they tingled. The broth was thin but very flavorful with a comforting and savory mix of herbs that had her licking her lips after each sip. Rumplestiltskin might not have much to work with in the kitchen, but she thought he did quite well. 

He puttered around the space, picking up little odds and ends that had been left to sit with a nervous energy. Every so often he would glance at her, and if she met his eyes he would hold her gaze for only the briefest moment before looking away. She didn’t understand why. They had shared something of a moment in her room that night in the tavern, a wonderful, mutually satisfying moment at that. He had seen all of her and she had seen him, why was he so skittish?

“Feeling better?” he asked sometime later as he took her bowl away. He set it on the counter to be washed later, and looked over his shoulder. “More tea?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He half shuffled, half limped back to his chair beside her. “May I ask what you were doing out there? On the road?”

Lacey shrugged and then lifted her feet to tuck the blanket around them. “Walking home.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a quiet snort and smiled, which in turn made Lacey grin. “I, uh, went to Longbourne for the day, to the market.”

He frowned and then bent to pick up a drop spindle that was kept in a box near the chair. It was what Bae used to practice in the evenings, but now it would keep his hands busy while they talked. Maybe it would also keep his mind from straying to the women sitting beside him and the memories of their brief time together. 

“Why all the way to Longbourne?” he asked, hooking a section of wool to the end of the spindle. “We have a market here.”

She sat back in the chair, rocking it slowly, and sighed. “Well, Longbourne’s bigger, and it’s just - different.”

“Aye,” he replied softly, understanding that there was some benefit to a market that didn’t know your past, and that didn’t or couldn’t judge you for it. Then he started the spindle spinning, letting the wool stretching slowly from the clump in his hand.

Lacey watched as the wool twisted into yarn, thinning and lengthening as Rumplestiltskin kept up the steady turning of the spindle. There was a faint whirring sound as it went around and around, and she found the rhythm quite soothing. At the same time, the sight of his thumb and index finger slipping up and down the yarn, the rest of his hand splayed in an almost elegant flourish, stirred something in her. She could remember the sensation of his fingers, touching her so intimately. Her thighs pressed together at the memory of them plucking at her nipples and slipping inside her. She shivered and held the blanket closer, sighing at the feeling of the soft fabric on her bare skin. 

“So, have you been to Longbourne, then?” she asked finally.

Rumplestiltskin nodded and looked up from the spindle, briefly. “A few times yes. They pay good prices for thread there, and the Lady, she - she likes my work.”

“Lady Midas?” she said, her eyes going wide. “She buys your thread?”

“S-sometimes, yes.” He gave her a small, shy smile and shrugged. “I don’t go there too often. It’s a long way.” He glanced at her and then looked rather pointedly at his leg.

It was a difficult journey for him to make on foot, doubly so while having to watch out for Baelfire. His leg would ache intolerably by the time they returned home, and he’d barely be able to stand the next day. The money was worthwhile when Lady Midas was buying, which kept him going every few weeks.

“I hitched a ride on a cart my first time,” she said, looking from the fire to the window. “Cost me three coppers, but I would have had blisters for days if I hadn’t.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, imagining her sitting on the back of a car, her legs swinging as it rocked over the bumps in the road. “Bae and I have done that.”

They hadn’t recently, but when times were better, sparing a small amount of coin for the luxury of not having to walk was done without a thought. Now, depending on whose cart it was, he might have to pay a whole silver just for himself. No one want to offer the crippled coward a ride.

Lacey rocked back and smiled. Her first time was almost a year ago now. She’d hopped on a half full cart on a rainy day. When the man asked her name she didn’t want to tell him the truth, just in case, so she said the first name that came to her. Belle.

Since then the sellers in the square in Longbourne had known her as Miss Belle. Most of them probably thought she was someone’s wife or daughter, someone with decent means who went to the market once a month with a few silvers to buy the little things that made her happy. They didn’t know what she did did to earn them. If they did the kind smiles and friendly salutations would inevitably dry up, if they’d even sell to her at all. She knew that was probably why Rumplestiltskin had gone there as well, to escape the village and their judgements, to be no one but somehow more of a _someone_ than either of them could be here.

She looked around and frowned. “Where is Baelfire?”

“Staying at Figgins’ for the night,” he answered. The spindle knocked against the floor and he cursed quietly, untangling the yarn and pulling it off before starting the process again.

“Figgins?” she repeated. “The blacksmith?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “Bae sells my thread and twine to his wife Marta. And he might -” He paused, trailing his fingertips down the length of yarn as it twisted, and then sighed. “He might a-apprentice.”

Lacey’s eyebrows lifted. “As a smithy?” she asked. “Not - not a spinner?”

At that he looked up, and she smiled softly. His eyes went back to the spindle again, and she licked her lips, watching Rumplestiltskin as he kept his head down and worked. She wondered how many nights he spent like this, working until the last possible hour. It was no wonder his hands were always a little rough, why his knuckles were sometimes cracked and raw. She thought of the salves and lotions in her basket, bought with money she made letting men use her body for their pleasure, and in turn used to keep her skin supple and smooth because that was what pleased them. It was the cycle of things, the way life always fed back into itself so you could never quite escape your station.

He sighed again, and stopped the spindle. “He’s a bright boy,” he said. “He can do whatever he puts his mind to. It’d be better for him if - if he doesn’t -”

He waved and hand and shrugged, casting a quick glance at Lacey. Then he wound the remaining yarn around the spindle before setting it aside in the box. As much as he enjoyed teaching his son his trade, and as much as any father might want their son to follow in their footsteps, he knew there wasn’t much future in it, not in this place. But if Bae apprenticed with Figgins the town might ease up on him, might see him as more than the coward’s son. That was worth letting his son go, letting him essentially become someone else’s son. It would hurt but what mattered was Bae could have a future beyond this tiny cottage. He didn’t have to be an outcast like his father.

Lacey leaned in and laid her hand over his arm and gave him a light squeeze. It was plain to see he was only trying to do what was best for his son. He could have been selfish and pushed Baelfire to be a spinner, but she had come to suspect there wasn’t a selfish bone in this kind spinner’s body.

Rumplestiltskin looked at her hand, then at her face, and swallowed hard. “It’s late,” he blurted, as he rose quickly from his chair.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “And it doesn’t look like the snow has let up.” The wind howled very timely, and she winced at the thought of braving it. “Nor the wind.”

He was fidgeting again and avoiding eye contact. “You, um, you could stay?”

Lacey looked up at him, surprised, and then smiled. “Thank you, that’s - that’s very kind.”

“No matter,” he mumbled. Then he glanced around the small space, his eyes darting from one thing to the next. “Y-you can have the bed. I can sleep on the palette.”

Her mouth open and she shook her head, pushing herself up out of the old rocking chair. “No, I couldn’t possibly,” she replied. “I can sleep on the floor, it’s no -”

Rumplestiltskin held up a hand and she stopped. Then he noticed the edge of the blanket had slipped down past one shoulder, exposing a lovely swath of pale skin. “No, no, please. I insist, it’s - “ 

His eyes trailed down her body and he swallowed nervously. His fingers folded and unfolded, then clenched into fists at his side.

She watched him with her head tilted to the side, noticing how his eyes roamed over her. There was no reason they couldn’t have some fun if she was stuck here for the night. The thought of sharing his bed made her flush.

“Or...,” she started, letting the other side of the blanket slip down until she was holding it closed just over her breasts. “We could share the bed.”

He gaped at her, his eyes widening as the blanket lowered even more, until he could see just a hint of her chest. “What?”

Lacey held his gaze and licked her lips. Her body felt warm and her skin itched to be touched, and between her legs she was already hot and wet. Her memories from before had occupied her on several nights, but now that they were alone again they weren’t enough. 

She smirked. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

At that she let the heavy blanket fall away completely. It landed on the floor with a soft thump, and she stepped forward, pushing her now dry hair back over her shoulder.

“L-Lacey -” Rumplestiltskin barely managed to her out her name before he staggered, catching himself on the back of the chair. 

His eyes raked up and down her naked body, and he felt his cock stir.

She held out her hand to him and smile softly. “Come to bed, Rumple.” 

Then she started walking backwards, to the other side of the room where his small bed was pushed into the corner opposite the fireplace. It was against the wall of the cottage most protected by the trees, and she had no doubt that it would warm up easily once they got under the blankets. After a few steps, she turned so he could see her backside, and threw him a saucy look over her shoulder. As a final enticement, she made a show of bending over to climb up onto the bed, leaving the soft coverings folded back at the end.

He shed his boots and clothes faster than she thought possible, leaving them in a heap on the floor. He moved awkwardly, his limp a bit more pronounced both from his erection and from the struggle to free himself of his clothes, as he hurried to join her on the bed. She laughed softly at his eagerness, and grinned at him. He faltered a bit at that, seemingly hesitant to join her, until she sat up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are - are you sure?” he managed as he sat on the edge of the bed. He was fairly certain Lacey’s smile and laugh were genuine, but it was too easy to remember how Milah had mocked him, how she had used affection and her body almost like a weapon to get him to do her bidding.

Lacey went up on her knees and shifted closer, reaching for him. Her fingers slid in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers to kiss him softly. When she pulled back, he looked at her like she was the singularly most amazing thing he’d ever seen. It made her insides flip and she sat back on her heels. He moved forward, cradling her face with both hands as he brought his lips back to hers. Her mouth opened and his did the same, everything becoming more urgent with the first taste of each other.

Rumplestiltskin pushed her back gently, following her down to the bed but not settling on top of her. He held himself off, taking his kisses from her mouth to her jaw and down the slope of her neck. She arched against him, seeking more, and tugged on his hair. He looked down at her, his eyes wide and dark, his jaw slack. She looked incredible in the firelight, her creamy skin glowing and soft. His palm rested against her breastbone feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest. All they had done was kiss and yet she was looking at him with a kind of desperation. He didn’t know what to think of that, nor could he understand how a woman like Lacey could possibly want him.

His eyes skimmed down to the soft, rounded mounds of her breasts and her rosy pink nipples. She sighed and he bent his head, brushing against one tip with his nose. She made another sound, high and strained, and he felt her fingers in his hair again, urging him closer. His lips closed over the peak, plucking at it once, then twice, before taking it in his mouth. 

She all but crushed him to her at the first touch of his tongue and teeth. Her back arched, her nails scraped at his shoulder as she gasped. When he finally released her aching nipple and moved to the other breast, she said his name and curled one leg over his. Still he held himself back from rutting against her or in her, and instead let his fingers begin to tease their way down her stomach. Her hips rolled under his hand, trying to press her wetness into his palm. He moaned with her breast still in his mouth and nipped a little harder.

Lacey cried out and he pulled away completely, sitting back for a moment to watch her eyes flutter closed and her body writhe. She was a vision, a dream, a fantasy come to life in his bed and he had no idea what deity to praise for the gift of her. Even in his darkest thoughts he’d never gone this far with her, never dared to hope for another night of knowing the touch of another person.

When her eyes opened, her lips quirked and she reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his cock and squeezing. His head rolled back and he groaned. “Gods, Lacey.”

She bit her lip and watched the restrained movement of his hips as he tried to hold back from thrusting into her palm. But then he stopped and took hold of her wrist, gently easing her hand away from him.

“Please,” he said. “Let me.”

He ducked down, stretching his legs out behind him to lay between hers. She gasped at the feeling of his warm breath on her sensitive skin. His nose nudged against her, lips just touching the crease of her leg, her thigh, and then up to her trimmed curls. He was hesitant at first, not having done this in some time. But it was one of the few things he did that Milah had liked, and he was fairly confident Lacey might like it too. He just needed to please her before he did anything more for himself or before she touched him again, otherwise he wouldn’t last. He felt the need to return at least a fraction of what she’d done for him last time.

Fingers slid over her, lightly and then more insistent. He slipped between her swollen lips, meeting the slick softness between.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” she gasped. “Rum -”

The rest of his name was cut off by a cry of pleasure as his fingers were replaced with his mouth. Lacey felt like she was on fire. His hands came around her thighs, holding her in place as he licked at her. It was light at first, and then harder, rasping his tongue through her folds and using the flat of it to press firmly against her clit. She keened when he drew her into his mouth and suckled her there like he had at her breast. Her hips jerked every time his tongue would flick over her nub or dip down to push inside her.

It was maddening and delightful. Her body wanted and demanded in a way she wasn’t used to, and with it came a vulnerability she didn’t like. With every encounter she was in charge, she was the one giving and earning only a few coins in return. This was something else. This was letting herself be pleased, taking pleasure for its own sake because this kind, gentle man wanted to give it to her.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t stop the shifting of his hips, rubbing his cock against the bed for some relief. He tried to be gentle and slow, but the way she pulled at him and tried to move made him almost ravenous. He sucked and licked, used the tiniest bit of his teeth, and delighted in every sound she gasped out. His legs moved, pushing himself into the bedding, the slight roughness of the blanket entirely too welcome.

She drifted close to the edge as a burning ache rose inside her making her pussy twitch, seeking something to fill it and push her over. She heard herself say _please_. That would have appalled her with any other man, but a second later his fingers were inside her, pressing deep and just a bit rough, and she was screaming as everything broke. Her fingers tightened on the blanket beneath her and in his hair as she bucked against his mouth. He groaned and the vibration had her crying out again. There was a rush of arousal, leaving her thighs and the bedding wet and sticky.

He watched as Lacey quaked and shook, his hand never leaving her, stroking her deeply but gently as she found her release. His mind felt fuzzy and he was dimly aware that he had come too, rutting against the bed as he pleased her. He knew there was no way she wouldn’t notice, and his face flushed with embarrassment as he sat up.

Lacey stretched languidly and sighed, her eyes drifting closed and then open slowly. She smiled at Rumplestiltskin and hummed in contentment. Her body felt loose and warm, sated as she hadn’t been in some time, even by her own hand.

“Are you - alright?” he asked.

She nodded and grinned wider. “Very.”

He nodded and smiled back at her. “Good then.”

She sat up as well, scooting back against the short headboard and frowning down at the blanket. “We made quite a mess.”

Rumplestiltskin swallowed and hurried to get up off the bed. “Yes, um, I’m sorry. I’ll just -”

“Leave it,” she said, waving a hand at him. She shifted over and laid down so her back was too the wall. “And don’t be sorry.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said softly and left the bed to fetch a clean towel. When he returned, he wiped off the bedding as best he could and then left the towel folded over the stain. “There.”

She thanked him and then patted the space beside her. He watched her with uncertain eyes as he crawled to her, stretching out next to her but leaving a small gap between them. He’d still need to wash the blankets tomorrow, but he was very tired and his whole body felt too relaxed to coordinate scrubbing laundry. Without any prompting, she snuggled up to him, draping one arm over his middle and tucking her head against his shoulder.

He reached down and pulled the covers up over them, fighting a smile at the way she sighed and her body sagged. In was a matter of minutes before she was asleep, but Rumplestiltskin remained awake for a while listening to the howl of the wind as it threw the icy snow against the side of the cottage. He didn’t dare wonder what this night meant, anymore than he’d let himself think too long on their previous encounter. But there was a feeling blooming in his chest as he felt the gentle rise and fall of hers. It was unnameable and dangerous because with it came hope and the desire for companionship, and those never lingered in his life for long.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rumplestiltskin awoke some hours later to Lacey’s hand wrapped around his cock. He was hard and aching with no idea if he’d been that way to start or if she’d helped things along, though he didn’t much care. After spilling himself like an adolescent boy earlier, he’d assumed that would be it. And it would have been fine if it was because she had let him between her legs, had let him please her in a way he’d only dreamt about.

He groaned as her light touch skimmed up his shaft, her grip loose around him and teasing. Her palm rubbed over the sensitive head before she trailed her fingertips back down to the base and then further to brush his balls.

“Lacey,” he whispered.

His head lolled against the pillow and he felt her press a kiss to his bare shoulder.

“Is this what you want?” she asked quietly, nuzzling his arm with her nose. 

Then she took him in hand again and slipped her hand up and down in short strokes. The light friction left him whimpering and clutching at the sheets.

“ _Yes_ ,” he gasped. Truthfully, he needed more but he would take anything she gave him.

Lacey smirked and lightened her touch, stroking either side of his cock with just her thumb and index finger, avoiding the parts she knew were more sensitive. He keened and she bit at the skin under her mouth, raking her teeth slow but gently over his shoulder. 

“Are you sure?” she asked before kissing his cheek. “You wouldn’t like a little more?”

Her hand tensed for a second, squeezing him just enough to let him feel how much more satisfying it could be. 

“More,” he repeated, his eyes slipping shut as he sucked in a ragged breath.

She brushed her lips against him until he turned his head and she could kiss him properly. It was warm under the blankets, their breath coming in wet pants as they pulled at each others lips. She caught his bottom lip, licked it and then ran her teeth over it. He strained, trying to get closer to her hand and her mouth all at once. He seemed so desperate for her touch and she liked that, liked getting him back for making her so wanton and crazed earlier. She’d never imagined that this kind, meek spinner could stir such a feeling in her, and now she wanted him to feel the same.

He was so hard and hot in her hand, and she thought about just straddling him and fucking him into the shabby mattress. Gods knew she wanted him between her legs and had since that night in her room. She wanted to fuck him and have him fuck her. He’d probably get her off just as easily that way as he had with his fingers and his mouth.

But there was something almost more intimate about this, about him trusting her and letting her play with his body. She had control in a way she didn’t have with other men, with the ones who paid her for all this and more. Her eyes closed as she tried to shut the thoughts out. She didn’t want to think about other men right now, certainly not the ones who treated her like the whore she was. Rumplestiltskin didn’t do that. When he looked at her she felt like a woman, a lady, someone worthy of respect.

Moisture dripped from the tip of his cock, and she caught it with her thumb, rubbing it over the head until he let out a wonderfully desperate sound. She kissed him, hard, pushing her tongue in his mouth as soon as his lips opened. He let her do as she pleased, his mind spinning with so much pleasure he didn’t care. Her hand left him for a second and he opened his eyes, watching as she shifted beneath the blanket. Then something warm and wet touched him and her hand wrapped around him again, stroking firmly. He groaned as he realized she must have had her fingers between her legs, touching herself and using her own arousal to slick him up.

“ _Gods_ , Lacey,” Rumplestiltskin gasped.

She smiled and kissed him again. “Is that better?”

Her fingers tightened around his shaft, squeezing him at the base and then giving him a long, slow tug. 

“Yes!” he cried out, not caring what she thought of him, only praying she didn’t stop.

Lacey hummed her approval and shifted to press against his side. She laid her leg over his, keeping him from bucking his hips, and moved her hand faster.

“Do you want my mouth again?” she whispered.

“No,” he managed, rolling his head side to side. 

He did, but that would mean she’d have to stop touching him and he was so very close he wasn’t sure he could bear it. It would also mean he would lose the wonderful feeling of her warm, soft body against him, of her breasts rubbing his arm.

She hummed again and kissed his cheek. “That’s it, Rum,” she cooed. “Come for me, lover.”

 _Lover_.

That word broke him and he cried out as he slipped in her hand, her fingers continuing to move through his release, pumping every last drop from him until he sagged into the mattress. It left him feeling boneless and light, maybe a little dizzy. 

After a few minutes, he looked around, surprised that it was still dark outside and wondering how many hours it would be until sunrise. She would leave him then, he knew. His head rolled to the side, and he caught Lacey looking at him through heavy eyelids. He grabbed the towel and wiped himself off, not caring that he was still damp and sticky. She licked her lips as he rolled towards her, her legs falling open to let him settle between them once more. This time he certainly knew what he was doing, his fingers sliding inside at the same time his mouth opened over her.

It took no time to build her up that peak once more, leaving her gasping and scraping her nails against his scalp as he slowed his movements. She thrashed and rolled her hips, tried to press herself closer to his hand, his mouth, anything that would give her that pleasure again. Then his hand moved, another finger pushing inside her and curling just so until she broke for him again.

This time he didn’t stop. His mouth and hands barely left her long enough for her to catch her breath before his tongue was back, moving up and through, in and out. He looked up and met her gaze just before his fingers pressed back inside. She keened and reached for him.

“Please,” she gasped. “Rum -”

Rumplestiltskin moved up her body, barely faltering in the steady movement of his hand between her thighs. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Lacey wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, moaning into his mouth as she tasted herself on his lips. He slipped his thumb over her clit making her cry out and arch her back. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt her whole body tense. A moment later a shiver coursed through her as bright little points of light flickered behind her eyelids.

He smiled at her softly and leaned in to kiss her. His lips brushed her, then caught her bottom lip and pulled gently. She blinked lazily, barely able to keep her eyes open, but grinned up at him. They shifted again, turning to lie with her back against his chest. She felt the blanket settle over her body once more, and just before she let sleep take her there was the faintest whisper in her ear.

“Beautiful.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lacey laid awake for some time watching a sliver of sunlight creep across the floor. The sun was almost all the way up, which meant it was time for her to go, for both of them to go back to the reality of their lives. There was a strange reluctance that came with that thought, one that didn’t have a place in her life.

She was a tavern wench and a whore.

There was no room for a home or a lover in that. Yet the past few hours, the evening she’d spent in Rumplestiltskin’s small cottage had stirred something she had thought died the day she came to this village. It frightened her that she could give name to it, that maybe she could let it in again and let it give her hope.

Shaking her head, she pushed herself up and slipped out of the bed. She made her way across the room to where her now dry clothes were hanging and started to dress.

“Need help?” came Rumplestiltskin’s sleepy voice.

She turned and smiled at him, holding her bodice up against her shirt. “Would you lace me up?” she asked.

He smiled and sat up. “Of course.”

She crossed to him and turned around, standing patiently as he sorted the lacing and fed it through the eyelets. His movements were surprisingly quick, and she was reminded of the previous evening when he had guided the yarn with his fingers, easily forming a long, even length.

“Where you, uh, going to leave without saying goodbye?” he asked as he came to the top of the bodice.

Lacey sighed. “No,” she lied.

Truthfully, she had been. Just as before she was going to go back to what she knew and what protected her, a cool detachment that let her move from bed to bed and room to room on any given night.

Rumplestiltskin gave the laces one last tug and then tied them off in a bow. She turned to face him and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing the light stubble. Her fingers were cool but not as cold as the night before when he’d found her stumbling along the road, nearly in the ditch and up to her hips in snow. He took her hands in his and kissed her fingertips, then her knuckles, and let them fall to his lap.

“Bae will be home soon,” he said, looking down at their joined hands.

She squeezed his hands. “I know. That’s why I thought I should go.”

It was another lie of sorts.

He nodded. “Or, um, you could -” She frowned and he glanced at her and shrugged.

“Rumple,” she sighed, raising a hand to his face again. There was a part of her that wanted to stay, that had a strange desire for whatever this was. But she was not that sort of woman, not anymore. There was no place for this in their lives.

“It’s no matter,” he said, knowing he’d made a mistake in even suggesting it. Then he shook his head and her hand fell away to her side. “I’ll see you, though? In town?”

He looked up at her and she smiled, stepping back and tugging on his hand until he stood. He held the blanket to his waist with one hand as the other brushed back her hair. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him softly on the lips, then on his cheek.

“Of course you will,” she said.

She waited while he pulled on his clothes and boots, and let him walk her to the door. Thankfully the morning was less harsh, and while the roads had a fresh heap of snow on them, the wind had died down considerably. It would be slow going the rest of the way into town, but nothing like last night.

“Will you be alright?” he asked, squinting out the open door into the morning light.

“Of course,” Lacey said offhandedly as she threw her cloak around her shoulders. She looked to the road and then back to him, smiling. 

“Good day, sir,” she said, giving him a brief curtsy as best she could in high boots while standing in knee deep snow.

He smiled and laughed, shaking his head before bowing as low as he could manage with his walking staff. “Good day, my lady.”

Despite the cold, Rumplestiltskin stood in the doorway and watched her go until she passed up over the small hill. Then he went back inside to start the day’s chores. He’d have an extra one today since he needed to wash the blankets on his bed, but as he looked around the room and saw the two chairs by the fire, two cups on the counter, he didn’t really mind so much.


End file.
